


Tonight Is What It Means To be Young

by FinalOwen



Category: Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical
Genre: Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Dreams, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jim Steinman, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Songfic, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinalOwen/pseuds/FinalOwen
Summary: Tink remembers every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. The dreams of angels that tormented him every night, and everything that led him to the Lost, and to Strat.





	

He remembers every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. Don't they all, really? 

They all have their stories about what it was like before they found the Lost. But unlike all their stories, he wasn't barely 17 and barely dressed. And now he never would be.

* * *

Tink couldn't quite pinpoint when he'd stopped aging. He'd heard the stories, knew that it happened, but he'd never suspected that he'd be one of them. But when he tries to tell people about it, he always tells them it was when the dreams started. Well, not dreams, plural. Always the same dream.

_He's been dreaming up a storm lately. Over and over again. He dreams about an angel on the beach, perfect waves building behind him, the sea whipping the sky with all its fury. But the Angel doesn't seem to care. He just stands there staring at Tink as he approaches the edge of the lake, his hair flying out in ribbons of gold. The storm is getting harder, the waves pounding on the sand around the Angel, peals of thunder making the earth below their feet start to shake. But Tink keeps walking, until he's so close. He wants to reach out and take the Angel's hand. He's closer than he's ever been-_

And that's when he'd always wake up. With the Angel somewhere just beyond his reach. Tantalisingly close. And when he woke, the reality was always so much more disappointing than the dream. The city had its share of devils, but he didn't see any angels. No holy choirs sang in the streets of Obsidian, and he'd been on the streets long enough to know.

There were two classes in Obsidian. There were those that sat in the glittering towers, safe and cut off from the world, and those trapped on the tempest-tossed streets. Oh, there weren't any angels in the city, but the storm from his dream was certainly real enough. He'd learned where to find the best places to hide from the wind and rain, the abandoned buildings that weren't already bought up by Falco and patrolled by his guards. He'd huddle himself up, trying to block it out, the sound of the wind outside enough to chill him to the bone. But every time, he'd wonder to himself if there was the angel waiting for him on the beach out there in the storm… And, his brain always reminded him – stuck as it was in this eternal cusp of puberty – if he couldn't get an angel, maybe he could still get a boy? A boy would be the next best thing...

And that was how his life continued, night after night, always the same dream. But then it all changed. He was on his way to one of his usual sleeping spots when he'd first heard it. Starting out as a whisper, but building right up into a shriek as he snuck through the alleyways towards where the noise was coming from. As he peered around the corner, he saw them.

There were about a dozen of them, all in all, men and women, some kind of street gang, dressed in punkish clothes with attitudes to match. Some had protest signs in their hands, others were busy scrawling graffiti on the walls, some just hollering into the night at the people in the towers. And there in the middle of them, one grabbed his attention. He was dancing like a cat through the chaos, so coordinated with the others' movements that the protest seemed to turn into a revel around him. Tink watched him, transfixed. He had the fire of a prince in his blue eyes, and the thunder in the skies was like a drumbeat in his ears, giving him this rhythm as he led the others through the streets. And his hair was flying out _in ribbons of gold_ …

Tink wanted to run out and join them, but something held him back, caution overtaking him… Until he saw the revels stop in their tracks as the group saw the line of faceless security guards, riot batons and shields at the ready. These were Falco's personal troops, the ones he used to take control of the lawless city, all those years ago. He could see the eyes of the leader dancing around, trying to find the best way to scatter. Most of the main routes were blocked by similar lines, though… But Tink knew these streets well, and from the routes the guards were coming, there were still a few ways out… Now or never.

“This way!” he hissed, and the man turned, looking directly at him. For a brief moment Tink was paralysed, feeling like he was going to wake up any second as the man approached and took Tink's hand, calling to the others as they ran down the alley.

Tink's heart was pumping, a fire started deep within him. They ducked and weaved through the alleyways, leaping over fences, sticking behind corners as they heard the march of the guards, until finally the man relaxed as they saw a large, circular entrance to one of the sewers across an intersection. He looked over at Tink, a beaming smile on his face, one that Tink would never forget.

“Thank you, we wouldn't have made it here without you. I'm Strat.”

“Tink.”

“Tink...” the man grinned, nodding at him. “Hey, listen… On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?”

He paused, confused. It sounded like a riddle, but he couldn't quite work it out. But it sounded like an invitation, and that was all he needed to know.

“Yes.”

Strat looked a little disappointed for a moment, but within a moment that toothy grin was back on his face. “You're kinda meant to come up with something- Ah, never mind. Would you like to join us?”

And in that moment, Tink didn't care about finding any angels.

So the revels began. Tink traded in his dreams of the beach for the reality of living in The Deep End, the abandoned club that the Lost called home. And he was happy. Cold nights were no longer spent in drafty buildings, listening to the wind outside and dreaming of angels. Though they'd been traded in for different dreams, ones that seemed so much more tantalising, so much more dangerous. He'd wake up feeling like he was sweating gasoline, with parts of his body that just couldn't stop giving off sparks… But where he hadn't seen any angels, he'd wake up and see Strat still there, and that was enough.

But it couldn't last forever, and he knew that more than ever when Raven came into the picture. He saw that same enthusiasm in Strat's eyes when he looked at her that he'd had on that first night when he'd taken his hand, and asked him the strange question about the wolf. And so Tink began to doubt his place. She wasn't an angel, but at least she was a girl, right? Had he been a fool to think that he'd held the same place in Strat's heart? Maybe he was always just a kid in his eyes… Did he even still have a place among the Lost? He didn't want the revels to end. There was so much more to do. This was what it meant to be young, wasn't it? But he was always so much younger than the rest…

* * *

If he'd known what was to come, maybe things would have played out differently. If he'd have known that he'd see his dream come to pass, the final confrontation between Strat and Falco, standing by the edge of the lake, surf tossing around them… Maybe he wouldn't have made the same mistakes. If he'd have been able to hear Strat calling him his soulmate, allaying his fears in those last few moments… As darkness began to drift over him, he wondered why he'd been consumed with doubt for so long? The happy times seemed so long ago, and far away…

But he still remembered that first glorious smile as if it happened only yesterday.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of (hopefully) a series of short fanfics for Jim Steinman's Bat Out Of Hell: The Musical. While the musical covers a lot of Jim Steinman's catalogue, there's still quite a few songs left out there, so I thought framing each one around a particular song would be a good idea. And of course, this one is mainly based around "Tonight Is What It Means To Be Young" from Streets Of Fire, though I've mixed in a few other lines for good measure!
> 
> There's a lot packed into Bat, but very little room left for backstory, so it seemed like a natural place to start, and who better to tackle than Tink, played so wonderfully by Aran MacRae. His emotional journey gives the play its backbone, and it was fun to try and explore that a little more.


End file.
